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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28602816">the bittersweet smell of victory and defeat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/horsepaws/pseuds/horsepaws'>horsepaws</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(it's less actual brunt/quark as it is just brunt), Alien Biology, Angst, Denial of Feelings, Episode Related, Episode: s04e25 Body Parts, Fantasizing, Ferengi, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, Olfactophilia, Oo-mox, Scent Kink, Sexual Fantasy, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:01:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28602816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/horsepaws/pseuds/horsepaws</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brunt realizes a few troublesome things about himself after getting back from a particularly frustrating trip...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brunt/Quark (Star Trek)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the bittersweet smell of victory and defeat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(a more accurate description would be.......brunt's a pervert and has an unexpected emotional breakdown in the middle of jacking off lmao)</p><p>anyway, i honestly didn't expect the first fic i've written in over a decade (i'm serious) to be focused on brunt of all characters since i have no personal attraction to him (but...a LOT to quark so that's kinda what fueled this), but here we are. i'm not entirely sure what i'm doing since this is my first time posting on AO3 and i don't consider myself a writer so this is more just practice than anything, but hopefully it's not so bad ! (also i couldn't think of a better title, i just wanted to get this all posted asap)</p><p>by the way, the description of ferengi genitals in this fic is based on <a href="https://puu.sh/H9xoE/1d0a32c63d.png">my own personal headcanon</a> (obvious nsfw warning for that image link), but feel free to imagine it as whatever similar thing you had in mind for the whole..."vaginal-like folds with a penis-like organ that comes out of it" fanon that's common in ferengi fics</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brunt arrives at his house on Ferenginar and hurries under the doorway to get away from the pouring rain. He had just returned from Deep Space 9, on a personal visit to Quark to collect what he'd paid for after having won the auction for all 52 discs of his vacuum-desiccated remains (as if there'd be <em>any</em> competition for even a single disc of someone like <em>Quark</em>). But alas, things didn't go as planned, and Brunt ended up leaving empty-handed aside from the crate of Quark's clothes he was carrying. The rest of Quark's belongings had been seized by the FCA and were to be auctioned and sold to the <em>lowest</em> bidder. It's what he<em> deserves</em>.</p><p>With a mixed feeling of frustration and pride, Brunt scoffs and sets down the crate at his doorstep. He had been standing there for a minute or two to let his raincoat drip off a bit before finally stepping inside to hang it up. Once inside, he adjusts the temperature controls to make it just a little warmer, then goes back to retrieve the crate so he could start carrying it to his room.</p><p>His house is filled with ornate gold trinkets displayed on every shelf, table, dresser...most have no practical use other than to show off his wealth. Furniture made of the highest quality materials, gaudy sculptures, opulent rugs, all of it was just another way to indulge his ego and impress his business partners. He could afford just about anything he desires.</p><p>Though these past few days have been an unfortunate reminder that no matter how much latinum he has, he can't <em>always</em> get what he wants.</p><p>With a bit less grace than intended, he drops the crate of clothes on his bed. He can't get Quark off his mind and it's making him furious. What a <em>miserable</em> excuse for a Ferengi. A <em>disgrace</em> to businessmen everywhere! To break a contract and lose his business license, his assets, <em>everything</em>, just to save his <em>pathetic</em> life...no <em>real</em> Ferengi worth his lobes would even <em>dream</em> of such a thing! It's <em>revolting</em>!</p><p>Brunt recoils in disgust and lets out an exasperated huff. He's GOT to think about something else, but now he's left with the task of looking through Quark's clothes to see what he wants to keep for himself. Surely there has to be <em>something</em> tasteful in there.</p><p>He begins unpacking the clothes and laying them out on the bed, sorting them into piles of "maybe" and "<em>definitely</em> not". He holds a flashy undershirt out in front of him to inspect the pattern. It's purple, blue, pink, and black, with a marbled, almost watercolor-like look to it. Not his style, but nice to look at. He holds it closer and rubs the fabric between his fingers. It's a bit silky, and...</p><p>It still <em>smells</em> like him...</p><p>This...was on <em>Quark's body.</em></p><p>Brunt suddenly feels a tingle in his lobes and drops the shirt in shock. </p><p>Confounded by his reaction, he takes a few steps back. He feels warm. Too warm. Did he set the temperature too high earlier? That must be it!</p><p>Standing there with unsteady breath, he stares blankly in the direction of the bed, unable to focus on any one thing, as if trying to avoid it altogether. His eyes become fixed on the shirt again. This might have all just been some unexpected reaction to stress, but he thinks he's decided he <em>hates</em> that shirt.</p><p>He takes a deep breath. Holds it. Then exhales. This is ridiculous. He just wants to get this over with. Once he's done sorting the clothes, he can relax for a bit.</p><p>He takes off his jacket, drapes it over the back of a chair, then slowly walks over to the bed. After taking a moment to regain his composure...he picks up the shirt. And begins folding it.</p><p>There, that wasn't so bad.</p><p>He sets it aside, grabs another shirt from the crate, inspects it, folds it, sets it aside, repeat. The rest don't seem to have the same scent as the first one. Perhaps Quark just wore it the day before and didn't get a chance to clean it yet.</p><p>Brunt feels that tingle again. Suddenly there's a thought gnawing at the back of his head. An impulse he's trying to ignore...</p><p>But his lobes get the best of him. And against his better judgment, he picks up the first shirt again. He brings it closer, grips it with both hands, holds it against his face...</p><p>And takes a deep whiff of Quark's scent.</p><p>A small, shuddering whimper involuntarily escapes his mouth. He feels so many things at once. Relieved, confused, blissful, aroused...</p><p>Ashamed.</p><p>
  <em>What in the name of the Blessed Exchequer was he doing!?</em>
</p><p>Without a second thought, he breathes it in again. And again, nuzzling his face all over it. It's <em>intoxicating</em>. He removes one hand from the shirt and begins to stroke one of his throbbing lobes in attempt to quell the pressure building inside him.</p><p>His knees are getting weak. He lets himself fall to the bed, rumpling all the perfectly folded clothes beneath him. What a delightful sight it was. Quark's tousled clothes in his bed. Now...if only <em>Quark</em> was here in his bed, too, he'd-</p><p>He stops, stunned by that thought. It was almost sobering.</p><p>He couldn't <em>possibly</em> be fantasizing about fucking <em>QUARK</em> of all people! <em>After all that's happened!?</em> He <em>hates</em> him! He's <em>glad</em> Quark broke the contract! He's <em>glad</em> Quark lost everything! He's <em>GLAD</em> Quark has to live the rest of his life, <em>forbidden</em> to do business with another Ferengi again! He's cut off from his own kind. His livelihood. His ticket into the Divine Treasury. He's <em>worthless</em>.</p><p>But then...<em>why?</em> </p><p><em>Why</em> was Brunt so <em>obsessed</em> with him?</p><p>Why was he willing to bribe such an expensive doctor just to tell Quark he was dying? Why was he then willing to pay <em>500 bars of gold-pressed latinum</em> to own every piece of Quark's body once he actually <em>does</em> die? Quark could never <em>dream</em> of being worth even a <em>fraction</em> of that.</p><p>"Because I <em>can</em>", he told himself. He could afford it. A smug look crept upon his face.</p><p>It's all just to humiliate him. It's just a display of <em>power</em>. Quark is so <em>insignificant</em> that his entire <em>life</em> could be purchased on what's considered mere <em>pocket change</em> to a Liquidator.</p><p>That's right. That was the reason.</p><p>But then the question still remains.</p><p>Why...</p><p>
  <em>Him?</em>
</p><p>And Brunt's smug expression fades.</p><p>
  <em>Why him, specifically?</em>
</p><p>What was it about Quark that riled Brunt up to such an extreme?</p><p>He looks down at the shirt still absentmindedly clutched in his hands. He looks around at the clothes covering his bed. He imagines Quark there again.</p><p>
  <em>...Oh no.</em>
</p><p>He looks horrified. Pained. Astonished. As if he was just given simultaneously the best and worst news of his life</p><p>He was...</p><p>in <em>love</em>...with <em>Quark!?</em></p><p>He was mad at himself. For feeling this way. For not realizing sooner. For being such an idiot.</p><p>He nearly rips the shirt without realizing. The sound of snapping threads suddenly pulls him out of his anger and throws him into heartache. This was Quark's, and he's ruining it. Like he's ruined Quark's entire life.</p><p>He holds the shirt to his face again, but this time in tears. He falls to his side and curls up slightly, gathering as much of Quark's clothing as he can reach, and embraces the sloppily-constructed pile as if he were embracing Quark himself. It's sad. Pathetic. But comforting.</p><p><em>This</em> is what he wants. This is what he's wanted all along. He wants to hold Quark. He wants him here with him. He wants <em>him</em>. He wants <em>all</em> of him.</p><p>He nuzzles his face into the shirt once more, the scent of Quark now soothing him like a soft caress of the cheek.</p><p><em>But...</em>much to his embarrassment, the scent <em>also</em> still has the same effect on him as earlier. And with that, the feeling of shame is back.</p><p>He just had an emotional <em>breakthrough</em> that left him <em>sobbing</em> into a pile of <em>laundry</em> and he's<em> STILL aroused!?</em> He'd blame it entirely on Quark's residual pheromones if he could, but he's starting to realize it might be...something a bit more than that...</p><p>With a frustrated sigh, he sits himself up. Might as well take care of this or else it'll just be one more thing on his mind tonight. He has enough on his plate as it is right now.</p><p>He starts to undo his pants but only pulls them low enough to slip his hand down the front. He slides his middle finger across the entrance of his folds to check how wet he's gotten, but could use a little more to work with...nothing a little oo-mox couldn't fix.</p><p>He grabs his left ear and start to massage it between his thumb and forefinger, working his way up the helix and down to the lobe. Up and down...up and down. He lets out a gentle moan as a little more of his natural lubricant flows out and onto his fingers. <em>Thaaat's better</em>.</p><p>He pulls his pants a little lower to allow for easier access, and using his right hand, he slowly works two fingers into his folds. He shivers a bit once they're all the way in and it sends a fluttering feeling through his stomach and all the way up to his cheeks. Along with his slippery folds and flushed lobes, his penis has already emerged about 3 inches as well. He removes his slick fingers and uses them to tease the tip. He stifles another moan as he reminds himself to slow down. He doesn't want this to be over <em>quite</em> yet.</p><p>He reaches back down to the Quark-scented shirt on the bed, and brings it close to take another whiff of its exhilarating fragrance. Another lewd, delighted sound escapes him. As scandalous and degrading as this whole act feels, he just can't bring himself to <em>stop</em>. His erection is growing rapidly, throbbing and aching as if it's <em>demanding</em> his attention. So he dips three fingers this time into his wet folds, drenching his hand in as much of his fluids as he can gather in a hurry, and with it, he firmly grips his cock and slides his hand all the way down to the base. <em>"Ohhh, fuck..."</em>, his voice shakes and the sensation causes him to buck forward. He strokes with an unsteady rhythm, unable to contain his excitement as he continues to savor Quark's aroma.</p><p>Suddenly, he has an idea. One that in his current state, he was utterly powerless to deny.</p><p>A bit hesitant, he takes the shirt...and wraps it around his shaft. He feels his face burning up. The silky texture...wasn't bad. Though it would actually feel smoother without the added stickiness. Oh well, he could work with it.</p><p>He lets out a hot breath, and begins thrusting into the shirt. <em>How depraved...how disgusting...</em>he began mentally reprimanding himself for his indecency. <em>Getting off to someone's dirty laundry? This is a new low.</em></p><p>But his inner voice suddenly morphs into something else...<em>"You want me so badly that even a shirt I've been sweating in for a whole day is enough to get you going? NOW who's the pathetic one?"</em>, he hears in Quark's smug, coquettish voice. Brunt's face contorts into a confusing mix of guilt and pleasure. He wouldn't admit it, but he's always gotten a bit of a thrill out of Quark's insults. Up until now, though, he thought it was just because he knew they'd never mean anything to him. Nothing Quark could say could <em>possibly</em> hurt someone of his importance. He was <em>superior</em> to-</p><p>He shakes away that particular line of thought, but Quark is still on his mind. Still stroking himself with the shirt, he closes his eyes and imagines Quark there with him again. He pictures himself on top of him, Quark looking up with soft, lustful eyes. <em>"Brunt...please..."</em>, he hears in Quark's voice again. <em>"Fuck me...harder..."</em></p><p>His whole body feels like it's on fire, he's gasping as if he just ran a mile. He wants Quark <em>so bad</em>. He wants to feel his skin against his. He wants to feel him trembling beneath him. He wants to hear his <em>beautiful</em> moans as he brings him to climax. He wants...he <em>wants-</em></p><p><em>"Quark..."</em>, Brunt moans, sounding as if he's nearly sobbing. <em>"Quark...Quark...Q- uhh...NNg-"</em></p><p>Brunt yowls in ecstasy as he frantically thrusts into the shirt, spurting hot cum onto the fabric and, regrettably, onto the pile of previously clean clothes beneath him. Guess he'll have to wash <em>all</em> of them now...</p><p>Panting and sweating, he takes a moment to collect himself. What a <em>mess</em>. He decides to use the shirt to clean himself up a bit. It's already been thoroughly soiled, so he might as well. It's a shame, it really was a fine shirt, and it certainly looked nice on Quark. Perhaps once it's been cleaned, he could return it...and hopefully get a chance to see Quark wear it again.</p><p>Brunt's not sure how that would make him feel after...<em>this</em>. Seeing Quark in the shirt he did unspeakable things to. But Quark would never know. At least...he <em>hopes</em>. He can't even imagine how Quark would react. He doesn't wanna think about it.</p><p>He wonders if Quark would ever forgive him. Not just for this, but...for everything else. Maybe he's been too hard on him. No...Quark broke a contract. A <em>Ferengi</em> contract. He gave his employees <em>raises</em>, <em>vacation time</em>, he sold medicine to Bajoran refugees, <em>BARELY</em> above cost, he-</p><p>Brunt takes a deep breath. Quark has done a <em>lot</em> of things he <em>strongly</em> disagrees with, and his own personal feelings for him don't make up for his detestable, <em>charitable</em> actions, but...if he really<em> is</em> in love with him, revoking his business license and seizing his assets isn't exactly an ideal start to a relationship.</p><p><em>...Relationship?</em> You're getting ahead of yourself.</p><p>Brunt sighs and looks over to the crate of half-unpacked clothes. Suddenly he's glad that's all he returned with. The thought of possibly realizing he was in love with Quark <em>after</em> acquiring his vacuum-desiccated remains fills him with a sense of swelling dread in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>But that didn't happen. Quark is alive. And maybe someday he <em>will</em> have him. Not in discs, not dead, but alive and whole. In his arms. In his bed...</p><p>It's wishful thinking...he knows that. But he's an ambitious man. He's never been one to back down once he's set on an acquisition...and he's not about to give up now.</p>
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